Let Him Know
by StandingOnTheRooftops
Summary: Wolfram asks a question to Yuuri.  Read to find out the answer.  :   Dedicated to Twit, for her support and encouragement.  YuuRam.  Second Person POV.  One-shot drabble, complete.


Let Him Know

…

Summary: Wolfram asks a question.

Warnings: YuuRam. Second person POV. And my first shot at it, so... please be kind.

Dedication: Annoying Little Twit, for her recent encouragement to try out this writing style. Hope I don't disappoint. :)

Disclaimer: Kyo Kara Maoh and all of it's characters are not mine. If it was mine, there would be a season four, and the kiss would not have been off-screen, haha!

...

You don't know how to react, do you?

It's just a question. Go on, answer it. You always avoid and distract; you never answer. Always a blush and a laugh and "Hehe, I think I hear Greta calling. Later."

You always see the pain flash in his eyes before you turn around; before you leave him standing there, hands clenched, eyes glimmering. It's always the same thing. It's been three years, Yuuri. Haven't you grown up yet?

No, not yet. Apparently. You still leave him standing there. You know his heart- know exactly how he feels. But it's never, "Yes, Wolfram" or "No, Wolfram". Never affirmative or negative. It's always that same evasion.

It's been three years. Time to stop running. Once more, like the countless times before, you're here, in this situation. Facing this question. Only this time, he's planned a bit better.

He's not asking in the baths, or in the hall, or in the morning as you're getting ready. No, this is different. Tonight is the first night he's waited for the perfect moment. You've only just changed, and he's uncharacteristically early to bed isn't he? Already dressed and sitting in bed under the coverlet.

That should have been your first clue. To let you know he planned something. He's never this early. There's always one last thing to do, one last thing to see to. And it's only worsened over the years- his excessive working- or haven't you even noticed?

No, you've noticed. Even you aren't that blind or stupid. He's your best friend, after all. Right? Isn't that what you call him? Your friend, best friend even. Comrade, soldier, guard, friend... but never fiance. No, never the title that's rightfully his. The one you gave him, accident or not. The one you could have easily taken back. You're Maoh. You could have done it, taken it back. Before you came to know him, before you came to like him.

You like him, don't you? Once you dug a little deeper, once you actually got to know him. You like him. He's a brat, still. Annoying, short-tempered. Arrogant and just a bit snobbish. The kind of person, back in Japan at school, you'd have steered clear of and called a snob, a prep. A pretty, arrogant, vain rich-boy. That's how you first saw him, isn't it? And really, that's what he is.

Only now you know how lonely he was, how much more control he's gained over his temper. How open-minded he's become. You know his little quirks. You know how strong and brave he is. Now you know how kind and gentle he is. How loyal and over-protective.

Now you know how much he's completely, totally, irrevocably in love with you.

Come on, now. How are you going to answer him? He's sitting there, even now, as you're frozen in fear, standing beside the bed. It's just a question, Yuuri. Come on, answer him.

Tell him the truth. Tell him what you've been running from. Tell him what you've been avoiding for so long now.

You really are a wimp. Just like he says.

Scared of your own shadow. Scared of your own heart.

Just tell him already.

Oh, yes. He's a brat, a snob, hot-headed and vain.

Oh, yes. He can't even paint as well as a two-year old, and his poo-paint stinks.

Oh, yes. He's too protective and needs to lay off.

Oh, yes. He needs to stop hogging the covers, and kicking you off the bed.

Yes, he needs to eat a little bit more and relax a little. He's working too much lately, isn't he?

Yes, he needs to come to bed a little earlier. Maybe even sleep in from time to time. Again, he works too much. Even Greta is noticing, isn't she?

You care, too. Don't you? Run away, keep denying it. You can't lie to yourself. Not anymore.

Yes, he's a boy. A pretty one, right? Ha! Like that even matters. You've realized yourself by now, haven't you, that things over here are different than on Earth. Nobody would look twice at you. Heh, except maybe in jealousy, of course.

And isn't it a bit late for that, anyways? For worrying about what's taboo in Japan when you've already gone there?

That's right. Tell him now. Tell him the truth.

You love him, don't you?

You just don't want to admit it. And you're afraid. You wimp.

Don't hurt him anymore, just act.

That's it. Step forward. Again, and again. Settle on the bed. That's the way. Lean closer, let your lips whisper across his, let your breath mingle. Closer, still. Until lips touch in the softest, most gentle of caresses.

Ah, yes. Tell him. Let him know. **Show** him. Through the tender touch of your lips. Lift your hands, now. You know you want to. Bury them in his soft, soft hair. Breath in his sweet, sweet scent. Show him how you feel. Show him what you've denied for so long now.

You'll have to talk, too. Eventually. Things need explained, and you know he won't just let it lie. He's stubborn like that- but you love that about him, don't you? So you're not over this, not yet. But this is no time for words.

Well, only four of them. The rest can wait.

"I love you, Wolfram."


End file.
